


lick it off my lips like you needed me

by forcynics



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Episode: s01e12 Malec, F/M, Hair-pulling, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Post-Wedding, Sparring, Training, Wedding Night, references to clary/jace angst etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6442084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcynics/pseuds/forcynics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he last saw Lydia a few hours ago, she was standing at the altar in a white and gold wedding dress with her hair in elaborate curls and nothing but kindness on her face as she wished Alec happiness with Magnus.</p><p>Since then, she’s changed into a black sports bra and black training pants and wrapped her hands in tape. Her hair’s been undone and pulled back into a simple ponytail and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looks surprised to see him.</p><p>“Jace. What are you doing here so late?”</p><p>He nods at the punching bag. “Had the same idea as you, apparently.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	lick it off my lips like you needed me

**Author's Note:**

> semi-au take on 1x12, pretending the scene where lydia is attacked and the scene where jace and clary finally talk never happened

 

 

 

 

It’s a relief to finally get out of his tux, honestly, after the wedding-that-wasn’t-a-wedding. 

Jace feels more comfortable the instant he’s back in his standard Shadowhunter gear: simple, black, nondescript clothes that are easy to move around in, easy to fight in.

Standing at the altar in a full suit, he’d had to clasp his hands together tight to stop from fidgeting with his collar and that damn bow tie that felt like it was strangling him, his throat impossibly tight and hard to breathe through every time he looked out at the crowd and—

Even now in his room, he feels a little bit like he can’t breathe again. Forces it out of mind. Forces _her_ out of mind. 

He knows he has to talk to Clary eventually, that this isn’t something he can just ignore and ignore and ignore, no matter how much he wants to keep pretending. But every time he lets his thoughts linger too long on any of it – Clary’s face and Valentine’s taunting voice, _blood calls to blood_ – his throat goes tight again and he’s clenching his fists without even realizing and he just wants to hit something. 

But this isn’t a demon he can fight his way through. This is something else, something awful and impossible and something he has no idea how to deal with. 

When it hits midnight and he still hasn’t been able to stop wrestling with his thoughts, Jace decides he might as well hit something anyway.

Everyone else in the Institute should be in bed right now, since none of the late night festivities they’d anticipated tonight are happening. No wedding, no reception, no after party, that’s just how it goes. 

It means no one else is around to notice him moving through the halls on his way to the training room. That’s the plan, at least, until Jace starts to make his way down the last hallway and picks up on the very familiar sound of fists hitting punching bag, heavy breaths, and grunts that mean someone else is already there.

Even though his plan for the night is sort of ruined, even though he’s not in the mood for company, he’s curious enough to see who else is up in the middle of the night to train that he keeps going, ducking into the room quietly and frowning immediately.

“Lydia?”

Her fist connects squarely with the punching bag in the centre of the room and her blonde ponytail whips around as she smoothly pivots to face him.

When he last saw Lydia a few hours ago, she was standing at the altar in a white and gold wedding dress with her hair in elaborate curls and nothing but kindness on her face as she wished Alec happiness with Magnus.

Since then, she’s changed into a black sports bra and black training pants and wrapped her hands in tape. Her hair’s been undone and pulled back into a simple ponytail and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looks surprised to see him.

“Jace. What are you doing here so late?”

He nods at the punching bag. “Had the same idea as you, apparently.”

Lydia smiles, bright and determined, but there’s something forced about it, something _too_ bright and _too_ determined.

“Sometimes when life isn’t working out the way we want, it’s good to get in a punch or two,” she says, and it surprises a low laugh out of him.

“Something like that, yeah,” he admits.

He already feels guilty for suspecting her of spying on them earlier. When he saw her face at the altar, saw her touch a hand to Alec’s cheek and tell him to go after what he wanted, that she would be alright, that’s when the guilt hit.

Most people would be nothing but bitter in Lydia’s shoes, standing in front of so many respectable people, her perfect wedding shattered for everyone to see. But Jace saw her face and heard her kindness and he believes that she truly wants Alec to be happy. 

It made him look at her differently, as someone he might actually have something in common with: wanting Alec to be happy.

Lydia’s plans and dreams have all been set aside, but she cares enough about Jace’s parabatai that she let it happen with a smile on her face, and that changes the way he can categorize her among the people in his life. He doesn’t know exactly what it makes her, but it’s something new, something closer.

“Do you want to partner up?” Lydia asks, raising her fists in front of her, position perfect. It pricks his interest, deep in his chest, a warm, little flare of excitement. He’s never trained with Lydia before, and it’s what he came here for, after all, to get out all this energy that’s rattling through his veins.

“Sure,” he agrees easily, already rolling out his shoulders. He gets his hands up too, lowers himself a little as he starts to approach her. 

Lydia grins, quick and wicked and a hundred times more real than the smile she gave him when he first showed up.

She takes the first swing, fairly direct, and he blocks it easily enough, their forearms clash, but then she’s already going for a low jab with her left hand and he has to weave away from it.

They circle each other, their scuffling feet the only noise in the training room. Jace goes for a jab at her shoulder, but Lydia ducks it, and then as she’s rising back up she swings her leg out in a wide kick, and it’s easy to lean out of range, but it feels _good_ , all of this, going through familiar motions, his fists up and his blood pumping and his head clear of everything except Lydia and trying to anticipate her next move.

Her foot lands and she squares herself, and then she’s punching out at him, straight on, and he blocks it, and she blocks his returning jab. They get into a series of blows and blocks then, rapid swings and kicks and ducks, and they’re circling each other the whole time, light on their feet.

Jace is starting to breathe heavier and he can tell Lydia is too. There’s a pause in the action, eyes locked, both of them weighing the other, when she speaks up suddenly—

“I know I shouldn’t be—I know it’s not fair to be frustrated. By everything.” She’s gritting the words through her teeth. “And I’m not. I don’t wish it went differently.” She goes for an uppercut, surprises him in the middle of her speech and almost lands it, but he leans away, and they both settle themselves again, still breathing heavy.

“But this morning I had a plan for the rest of my life and now I don’t.” Lydia says it so simply, so straightforward. Her jaw’s clenched and she straightens her posture, and they both pause, for real this time, plant their feet and everything.

“I can want Alec to be happy and still be a little – a little disappointed about that. Can’t I?” She doesn’t pause long enough for Jace to say anything. “I mean, I was going to run this Institute. I really wanted that. Maybe I shouldn’t just say it like that, but. I did.” Her cheeks are flushed and she looks more unsure of herself than he’s ever seen her.

Jace shrugs. He’s still getting his breath back. 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to be the best Shadowhunter you can be,” he says slowly. The words roll off his tongue easily. He’s certain he’s heard them before, from Maryse and Robert, probably repeated by Alec too. They should all aspire to be the best they can be. They should be proud of that. 

He may not have thought he had anything in common with Lydia Branwell before today, but they’re both Shadowhunters, and they were raised the same, and striving to be the best at everything they do is somewhere they can find common ground easily.

“Exactly,” Lydia breathes out with a firm nod, reaches up to tighten her ponytail. “Keep going?” She raises her fists again, and Jace gets the impression she wants to drop the subject. He can’t blame her. He came here to put his own problems out of mind too.

(If Clary’s face flashes in his head, just once, just quickly, just the way she looked at the wedding today – if Jace flinches – he shoves past all of it.)

He raises his fists and grins at Lydia. “Of course.”

They go for longer this time, hardly any pauses, hardly any time to evaluate each other, just quick blows, enough that some start to connect. Jace takes a good hit on his left arm, and lands one soon after to Lydia’s shoulder. They keep going and keep going and keep going and his mind has never felt so wonderfully empty and focused all at once.

When they finally break away, panting for breath, they keep their fists up, keep circling, eyes flicking over each other, watching and waiting. Jace can feel sweat at the back of his neck, his skin tingling with it in the cool air of the Institute.

He keeps his eyes on Lydia and he can feel his heart pounding harder from the work out. His chest is warm and his face feels flushed and his eyes flit over Lydia and he’s suddenly aware of so much bare skin, her arms glinting with sweat and her chest heaving as she regains her breath. 

The sharp prick of attraction catches him off guard, and almost instantly it’s followed by something like shame, dousing over him like cold water. He shouldn’t, he _shouldn’t_ –

Why shouldn’t he?

There’s no logical reason he shouldn’t be attracted to Lydia. He has no attachment to anyone else – he winces, maybe, just slightly – and there’s nothing about Lydia that should make him feel this impulse to tamper down the urge, the _shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t_ that’s become so automatic.

This is exactly what he didn’t want to think about when he came here. He wants all of it as far out of mind as he can possibly get it. 

Lydia goes for the next hit, a sharp blow aimed at his right shoulder. Jace weaves out of her path, then back in front of her, and they’re both still breathing heavy, and he’s right up close to her, Lydia’s eyes flitting down over him, then locking with his own, and it’s too much, staring at her dead on. 

His gaze drops to her mouth, open just a hint, and instead of taking the next swing, he steps forward and kisses her.

Lydia makes a small noise of surprise, and there’s a moment of hesitation where Jace almost pulls away, almost apologizes, but then she kisses him back, pressing herself up against him, hands scrabbling to get a grip in his t-shirt.

She tastes like sweat and salt and something altogether sweeter, and when his hands settle around her bare waist, her skin is warm to the touch. His heart is thudding loud in his ears.

It’s Lydia that breaks off the kiss, letting go of his shirt and pulling away with a shaky breath. She’s still right in front of him and he still feels a little dizzy. 

“Cheap trick, Wayland,” she says a moment later, with a short laugh. “That’d never work on a demon—”

“Not a trick,” he breathes out, interrupts her. He doesn’t know what that was exactly, but he can still taste Lydia’s mouth and he wants her and there’s nothing wrong about wanting her.

Lydia’s eyes are a little narrowed, a little searching, but then her gaze flicks down to his mouth and he sways closer to her, almost automatically. 

He kisses her again. It takes so little effort, so little forward momentum, she’s just _right there_ , mouth hovering so close to his, the easiest thing in the world to connect. They kiss slow and easy, like something to sink into, and Jace slides a hand around the back of her neck. 

He’s vaguely aware of Lydia tugging off the tape that’s wrapped around her hands and wrists, letting it fall to the ground between them, and then her hands are sliding up under his shirt and Jace feels a hot tug of arousal. They’re kissing each other harder now, more desperate, all tongues and teeth and Lydia pushing and him stumbling until his back brushes up against the punching bag.

The bag sways behind him and Jace nearly loses his balance. They break apart. He chuckles to ease the tension, and Lydia brushes back loose strands of hair that have come out of her ponytail. Her eyes dart around the room.

“Maybe this isn’t a good place for…this,” she says finally, _this_ , like she doesn’t know what else to call it either. But she isn’t saying that _this_ isn’t a good idea, isn’t turning him down or putting an end to it.

“My room’s just—” he starts to say, and it already feels dangerous. 

Lydia interrupts him firmly. “Mine’s closer.” 

He must look a little surprised, because she arches an eyebrow, and it makes him think, _you started this, remember?_

She’s still standing so close to him, and he brushes his fingers against her waist, can’t help it. He swallows.

“Lead the way.”

Lydia wasn’t lying – her room _is_ much closer than his. She closes the door behind Jace when he steps inside, and the click of noise it makes sounds impossibly loud. 

Her closet’s open across the room and her wedding dress is hanging up inside. He can’t help staring at it, can’t help thinking that it’s a sad sight. Even though Lydia wasn’t in love with Alec, she still lost something today, and that dress is a pretty stark reminder.

Lydia crosses the room and shuts the closet door. She lingers there, turned away from him so he can’t see her face, and he feels unsure of himself around her for the first time tonight.

“You looked nice today,” he says finally, a little awkwardly, for the sake of breaking the silence but also because it’s true. “In that dress,” he adds, because they’re both thinking about it anyway.

She turns around with a small smile and starts to walk back to him.

“It’s just a dress,” she says, her voice brisk like she’s giving out orders. _Drop the subject_ , maybe. Which is fair. Lydia’s allowed to want to push her problems far out of mind too. But there’s something a little sad in her eyes when she’s standing right in front of him, something a little sad like the sight of her dress in the closet.

But she kisses him before he can dwell on that, pulling him down to her with fingers curled in the front of his shirt. He slides his hands around her waist and pulls her in close, his fingers splaying across her bare back, skimming the edge of her sports bra.

Lydia’s fingers find the hem of his shirt and she starts to tug it up. Jace pulls it over his head, just in time to see Lydia making quick work of pulling her bra off too, and he can’t really help if the sight makes his blood rush through him and his mouth go dry.

She slips closer to him again, and her bare chest presses up against him when he kisses her. Jace slides his hands up between them to graze over her breasts, and Lydia nudges her knees into his to direct him back over to her bed. 

They’re a little clumsy, a little tangled, but they get there, Lydia underneath him and Jace bracing himself up with his elbows. He kisses down her neck, and she shivers, and he kisses over the top of her breast and she arches up against him. 

He mouths down the middle of her stomach, over her hipbones, and Lydia curls her fingers in his hair, and it makes him close his eyes. He feels so tethered to the moment, right here and nowhere else, and nothing but the smell of Lydia’s skin and her tight grip in his hair. 

She loosens her fingers when he lifts his head, trails them down the back of his neck while he starts to tug her pants down her legs. Neither of them are saying anything, and Jace wonders if Lydia’s thinking about today and how this wasn’t the wedding night she expected – she couldn’t have expected anything, really, but still not this.

Or maybe she’s tuning it all out, like he is, maybe she’s here and absolutely nowhere else and this is enough.

Lydia helps kick her training pants off, and then she’s nearly entirely naked in front of him except for a pair of simple white underwear. They’re nothing fancy and she certainly changed before training but the colour still makes him think _bridal_ and he gulps, but then she’s tugging them off too and settling back down into the pillows, not a scrap of clothing left on her.

Jace settles himself between her legs, feels her hand settle back in his hair, looser now but still a grounding presence. He kisses the inside of one thigh, and then the other, feels her shiver around him, and he eases himself closer and breathes over her clit, just lightly, just enough that he can see her stomach twitch and feel her fingers screw more tightly into his hair.

He grips her thighs, and she spreads them a little wider to let him get in closer. He doesn’t want to tease anymore, flicks his tongue over her clit and hears a sharp inhale. He mouths lower, slowly, nosing into the the fine hair and licking over her labia, taking his time while Lydia starts to shudder, digging his fingers into her thighs harder before finally licking inside her.

And then there’s nothing but this – Lydia’s fingers twisted tight in his hair and Lydia’s soft legs in his grip and the taste of Lydia all around him, wet in his mouth and everywhere, everywhere. 

One of her hands strokes down his neck, and then he curls his tongue and her leg twitches suddenly and her nails dig into his shoulder. He licks deeper into her, and her legs twitch harder and then she’s crying out softly and it feels glorious when she comes, and his mind goes a little blinding-white too, and it feels so, so empty.

 

 

 

 

Jace wakes up in a room that his not own but doesn’t look much different from his own.

It’s stifling hot under these sheets and his arms are wrapped around someone soft. It all falls into place as he blinks himself more and more awake and takes in the blonde hair, finally tumbled loose from its ponytail.

(And if it surprises him, a little, when he remembers, if he was expecting—he shuts that thought down before it can reach its dangerous end.)

Lydia starts to stir awake too, and he loosens his arms as she rolls onto her back. They’re both naked and Jace really, really isn’t sure what to say, so he just goes for— “Morning.”

She opens her eyes, turns her head on the pillow to face him properly.

“Good morning.”

It feels a little silly, suddenly, a little like a formal greeting. Lydia’s mouth quirks with amusement and Jace bites down on a grin.

But before he can try to make a joke of it, Lydia’s expression goes more serious, and she draws her mouth tight.

“I’m still going back to Idris,” she says softly. 

But she doesn’t say _today_ and she doesn’t say _tomorrow_. It just hangs there.

Jace props himself up on his elbow, tries his best crooked smile down at her. He isn’t going to ask her not to, isn’t going to ask anything of her when it seem too much like offering something he isn’t prepared to give.

“I know,” he says instead. “But—” he can’t help it. “I think you could be a pretty damn good Shadowhunter here in New York too.” He swallows. “If you ever wanted to come back.”

Lydia smiles, a little nervous but a little like she might actually like that idea too.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she promises.

And Jace doesn’t know what time it is, doesn’t know if anyone else has noticed he didn’t sleep in his own room last night, doesn’t know how everyone’s going to be dealing with the aftermath of the wedding today. But he’s here in Lydia’s bed, of all the places to be, and she’s smiling at him, and he doesn’t want to deal with anything outside of these four walls. Not yet.

So he leans down and kisses Lydia, and even laughs when she pulls him back down into the pillows and blankets, a little tangled around them.

There are countless problems waiting for both of them once they step outside those doors, but for now, Jace is going to stay firmly in this moment and savour the last little bit of it that he can.

 

 

 

 


End file.
